The Letter
by snappleapple518
Summary: Alex finds a letter from his deceased Uncle Ian three years after Ian died. Read and Review!


_**Disclaimer**_: _I do not own Alex Rider, but that would be interesting. I would be quite pleased if I did… to put that mildly. This is based on a song by __**Stellar Kart**__ called "Only Wanted". The bold print is the letter, and then the italics are the song. Enjoy… or at least I hope you will._

**The Letter:**

Alex Rider collapsed onto his bed for what seemed like the millionth time and tried to figure out what his uncle had been thinking. Alex wasn't a spy! He was just a normal boy. Perhaps he'd been able to survive. Perhaps it had even been fun at times… but not fun enough to deal with the loss. He'd lost his regular life, his friends, Sabina. He'd lost everything but life itself. Sometimes he wondered if it would be better if he _had_ died.

You're never too young to die, Yassen Gregorivich had told him. Alex wondered if this could be true. Alex wondered if maybe at this point death would be a blessing.

A tear slipped down his cheek as he glanced at the photo of his uncle and he before their climb up Mount Everest. Alex had always thought his uncle was only spending time with him. It had turned out that he had been training him.

"Did you even love me?! Does anyone love me?!" Alex shouted, not caring if his housekeeper, Jack heard him yelling. There's nothing like teenage angst to create indifference to embarrassment.

He fell asleep to the sound of his own choking sobs.

Little did he know that Jack _had _heard him yelling. It broke her heart to have him think that Ian had not loved him – that no one loved him. Jack loved him, his friends loved him. From the look on her face every time Alex was in peril, Jack would bet her salary that Ms. Jones at MI6 loved him too. Sabina loved him, even if it was only a schoolgirl crush, she really did care.

Jack knew it was time.

She went into Ian's study and got the letter.

Alex awoke a few hours later, his face stained with the tears that he had cried even in his sleep. He rolled over and groaned. He stared at the floor for a few minutes. He didn't have the strength to get up.

It was then that he spied a white corner of something sticking out from beneath his bed. He reached down and grabbed it.

It was a letter. He turned it over. It was addressed to him, from his uncle. Where had it come from?

He hopped up from the bed, suddenly filled with new energy. He ran into the next room where he saw Jack sewing up a pair of his pants.

"Jack… why are you sewing?" he asked her. Jack didn't sew. She was fairly horrible at it.

"Your trousers are ripped." She said matter-a-factly.

"Umm, you can buy some new ones. Or don't. I have plenty." He told her. They certainly had enough money with his pay, and Ian's still coming in.

"I'm doing this because I love you, Alex. Okay?" she said, sternly.

"Ok…" he said a little confused, and then remembering the letter, he asked her, "Do you know where this came from?"

She looked up.

"What?" He held up the letter. She peered closer at it and then shook her head.

"No… nope. Why don't you read it." She suggested.

"I plan to." Alex told her and then rushed out of the room.

Jack grinned and shook her head, and then went back to sewing his trousers. Because she _did _love him – and Alex needed to know that.

Alex settled on the bed. A letter from his uncle… where had it come from? But then again, it didn't really matter. All that mattered was that it was there… and it seemed to have come at quite the appropriate time.

He got a letter opener that his uncle had given him, and ripped the letter carefully open. He peered inside and saw just a small thin piece of paper. His well-muscled chest deflated significantly. But he pulled out the paper just the same – any letter was better than none.

He opened up the letter and his heart began to beat faster at the recognition of Ian's handwriting. He started to read.

**Dear Alex,**

**I realize that I may have pushed too hard with this spy stuff. Even if I never mentioned it to you directly, it was always on my mind. You'll have to forgive me, Alex. Every time I look at you I see your father. Your father was a good man, and he loved you very, very much. I fear he wouldn't have wanted you to be a spy. It's much too dangerous for a young person like yourself. That was my dream and mine alone. I'm afraid I pushed you to be more than the person you really are. And that breaks my heart Alex, because the person you are is a wonderful one all in itself. I may have taken it too far.**

_I watched you growing up living  
Out the dream i had in mind  
Until i messed it up  
Making you believe in what was mine  
I know i pushed too hard   
To make you more than who  
You really are  
Let's go back to the start  
I know i went too far i went to far  
_

**I need to ask you to forgive me, because I didn't mean for it to be this way, Alex. I mean for things to be better. I didn't mean to die, but does anyone mean to die? I only pushed you because I believed you could do it. I believed in you, Alex… that is why I did the things I did. But it appears that one small shove, has pushed you even farther than I wanted you to go.**

**It's too late to tell you in person just how sorry I am, but you have to believe me. I only wanted you to have more than I could ever have dreamed of having myself. But maybe that's not what **_**you **_**want, and I should have considered that first. I wanted you to know everything that I know, and be able to do everything that I can do. Because I knew you could, Alex. I always knew you could.**

**And you can. But I didn't ask if you wanted to. That is where I strayed.**

**But you have to believe that I only wanted you to be happy. That is really all that I wanted. I thought that being a spy would make you happy.**

_I only wanted you to have  
More than i could ever dream of  
I only wanted you to know  
Everything i know and then some  
I only wanted you to be more than  
I could ever become  
I only wanted, i only wanted you_

**Before I close this letter, this letter that I fear may be my last declaration to you, I must say that it's not too late to stop this all, Alex. You don't **_**have **_**to be a spy, Alex. And if being a spy doesn't make you happy, like it made me, than you shouldn't be doing it at all.**

**I tried to raise you the best that I could… sometimes good isn't good enough, but I did try Alex. I only ever wanted the best for you.**

**Just do what your heart desires, Alex.**

**Do that – and you can never go wrong.**

**I may seem very far away, but if you are ever thinking about what has to be done, just read this letter, Alex. What you're doing… does it make you happy?**

**If it doesn't – it's not for you.**

**Love and Forgiveness,**

**Ian**

_So now we're far away holding on  
To miles that separate still  
Waiting for the day to say  
Its not too late, it's not too late_

I know it's not  
What you want to hear  
Nothing makes up for all the  
Years i pray for the day you see  
I tried to raise you the best i  
Know how there's only one thing  
I can hope you don't end up  
Just like me

Alex collapsed on his bed. He felt another bout of tears coming along. He was more confused than ever.

Did spying make him happy? No, sometimes it didn't. But at times he wondered if he'd ever be able to not be a spy again. There was something captivating about it.

He picked up his portable phone and dialed the one number he could think of to call in a situation like this.

"Hello, this is Ms. Jones." Alex smiled. Ms. Jones was one of the nicer people at MI6, even if she had trapped him into some nasty situations at times; she did seem to care about him.

"Alex." He said, sounding even more professional than he remembered. Maybe that's what spy work had done to him. He supposed his childhood was fully over at this point.

"I know, Alex. I have caller-id."

"Oh…" he paused, silent for a moment.

"Did you need to talk about something?" she asked, spurring him on.

"Yes," he remembered, "I needed to talk to you about my spy work."

"Yes."

"I just wanted you to know that if I want to, I'll quit. I'll work for you as long as you need me to, and I'm comfortable with it. But I just want you and Mr. Blunt to know that if it doesn't make me happy I'm not going to do it anymore." He told her. They had told him countless times that he couldn't quit. He didn't really care anymore. If he wanted to quit he would.

"Are you planning on quitting anytime soon?" she asked. He shook his head and then remembered she couldn't see him.

"No."

"Good."

"But if I want to I will."

"You can't."

"I can." He said, and then clicked the phone off. Because he didn't care what they said anymore.

As Ian had said: if he wasn't happy, he wasn't going to work for them anymore.

---

Ms. Jones walked into the next room with a big smile on her face.

"What?" Mr. Blunt said looking up at her.

"Alex Rider, sir."

"Who else?" he rolled his eyes, "That boy is full of trouble."

"He said if he's not happy he'll quit." She grinned, uncharacteristically for the situation. Mr. Blunt clapped his hands.

"I wonder what's gotten into the boy. But I am proud of him."

"I'd always wondered how long it would take him to figure it out."

"What?" Mr. Blunt said looking up at her.

"I wondered how long it would take him to figure out just how empty our threats were." She said with a grin.

"Touché, Ms. Jones. Touché."


End file.
